Fragile
by purduepup
Summary: ONE-SHOT. She was his punching bag, his release from the tendencies. To her, his kisses were heat, his words comfort, and his love healed her. She didn't like pain, but for him, she would. Except he never wanted to hurt her—ever. But his demon disagreed…


_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

_A/N: My second one-shot! Whoop! If you read my other works, I promise, I'm working on my multi-chaptered stories right now—but I got inspired to write this (again -.-'). Hopefully you'll like this fanfic, as sad and short as it's supposed to be. Still, enjoy, and tell me what you think! ^.^_

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**Fragile**

_One-Shot_

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Her mother always asked about the bruises, cuts, inflammations, etc. Concern coated the elder woman's warm brown eyes, filled with love for her eldest child and only daughter. Kagome had to smile at the thought of her only parent caring about her injuries, but she merely shook her head every time she was given the choice on going to the doctor or explaining the full stories as to how they appeared. As far as Mrs. Higurashi knew, the bruise on her thigh was from ramming into a desk; the cut on her forearm was caused by zipper accident; and the tenderness of her back was slipping on the kitchen floor and having the rug dig into her skin. Her brother teased her about being a klutz, and she nodded and joked back until dinner was over, ending like it did every family night, and then she would go to her real home, the one further into the city, in a neat condo she shared with the love of her life.

_Inuyasha. _Her high school sweetheart. The flame of her heart. Her first love, and as far as she could help it, her last. He was her breeze on a hot day, the inch of warmth obtained from a match in an igloo, the sub-zero ice against her bruised head.

The demon who caused the bruise on her head.

Kagome was just arriving at their residence when she saw him, or more specifically, _it. _That thing in the window, with crimson eyes and elongated fangs adorning his boyish face, was not her love. He was a subject, an experiment, a monster forced into living with her, as he did with himself. She looked back at the two scarlet orbs gazing her way, two thin cerulean pupils narrowing at her wait. He was impatient, wanting his punching bag to get back into reaching distance again—she was well-aware of this, and what would happen afterwards. It sent anxious jolts through her stomach, caused a twinge in her forehead, and made her muscles tense for the shortest of seconds. Finally, after a few minutes of staring, she sighed, waving a little at the creature who then glared at her, and exited the small car he'd bought for her two years back. The door squeaked slightly as she opened it, taking her precious time to adjust to her new enviorment: the living room of their apartment.

The first thing she saw was the syringes, strewn across the floor, revealing to all just what his job was.

She closed her eyes for the briefest moment, breath turning even as she stilled, but in a relaxed manner. Five years ago, she'd moved in with her longtime boyfriend Inuyasha. Four years ago, he learned about his true heritage, never having known since he was an adopted child. Three years ago, the newest hanyou research center called and offered him a job as a test subject due to an elder hanyou's rarity in society. A few days following the call, his hesitancy was shooed away with her carefree attitude and encouragement, and he was to begin work in a week, coming in every Monday from then on.

Less than three but more than two years ago, the couple found out just what he was being experimented on.

He emerged from the staircase, footsteps soft but predatory; swift and silent, yet careless all at once. Without opening her own, she could feel his eyes on her, his gaze burning through her skull. She stayed rooted to her spot, knowing it wouldn't hurt as much as it would a normal human, and waited patiently, well aware of what was to come.

A fist collided with her jaw, and she staggered as a dribble of blood caught between her lips.

Hit after hit, all miscellaneous and random—a swipe to her arm, a punch to the gut, a kick to the shin, a push to floor and pull of the hair—she closed her eyes and took it. She ignored the pain, the burns, the ripping, the stings, the collapsing feeling within her own chest as she grunted and whimpered at times, knowing the thing hitting her was no man, that he held no soul or feelings for her.

He was an empty carcass when on the Full-Demon formula, and she was the ground beneath his feet.

It may had been seconds, minutes, even hours until the drugs wore off, and his muscles began growing sluggish, his movements slowing and weakening with each hit bestowed upon her feeble body. Then, as if just finishing a marathon, he stumbled backwards, landing with a plop on the staircase, leaning back and catching his breath as his claws and fangs shrank, his hair smoothing out. His eyes were closed, but she knew they were now a golden hue instead of blood-red.

Inuyasha was back, and that was all that mattered.

Gathering herself up, thankful she was a miko, she tottered over to him, sitting down on the steps as well, though she laid her head on his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and shallow also, though more from the loss of blood and ache of her body than exhaustion and fatigue. "Inuyasha," she managed to gasp, and his eyes slowly opened, meeting her gaze. Warmth spread through her core at the pure evidence of his return, and she managed a smile despite his pained face at seeing her wounds. "It wasn't as bad as it was a month ago," she told him, though it seemed her words flew over his head. "You're getting better at controlling your demonic blood—_it's _getting better at restraining you. I'd bet they'd be really impressed." Again, his topaz pools merely stared back at her, filling with too many emotions at once—one of them being shame. She continued, "Just think about it. If they keep working on the medicine, trying to solve the mystery of when demonic blood takes over the human half, then many people will be safer—"

"You're not safe," he cut her off softly, yet gruffly. His voice sent pleasant shivers down her abused back, tickling her spine, yet she only dug her head further into the burrow of his neck. "Every Monday, I take that gods-damned serum, and they expect me to magically sustain my full-demon tendencies and not possibly kill you, to see if the pills will somehow reduce my blood on the spot? Honestly, the whole fucking thing's attempted homicide on their part, if you ask me."

She sighed, her breath beating against his neck as she left her injuries alone, knowing the slightest touch could cause discomfort. She didn't mind this—it was for a greater cause, there were more people involved in this than just them—but she knew it bothered him, subjecting himself to his demon blood and gaining violent tendencies while seeing red. But, if he acted as an experiment, it could create a better life for both of them, help him later on in life when the tendencies became too much and more frequent. Perhaps she wasn't entirely safe now, but his demon wouldn't kill her—it couldn't unless it wanted to die itself. The future, if they continued down the path they occupied right now, would hold much more security; that was her guarantee. Besides, her Inuyasha wasn't gone. He came back to her every time, and his affection for her healed whatever emotional hurt she could've ever experienced during those attacks.

"Inuyasha," she began, "you'd never hurt me." It sounded like a lie because of what just happened, but she knew he understood her. He would never break her completely, never leave her because of this, never let her down, never rip out the seams of her heart. She would be his weight through these rough times as well, a reminder of hope, a quiet supporter supporting a few bruises, but love within her eyes. Kagome would stay with Inuyasha through the experiment, and he was not to question it, no matter how bizzare it was to deal with such violence weekly. And as long as he didn't lose himself completely, she really would hold his hand and smile through it all.

And as he laid a kiss on her forehead before trailing down her face and to her blood-red lips, she sighed in contentment, knowing well enough that she'd endure the pain, even walk through all the eight hells and back, if it meant returning to his love eventually.

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_A/N: I'm not sure where I was going with this idea, but I think where it ended was pretty good. Don't be afraid to review, and tell me what you think! :)_


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